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Allow me to introduce myself, I am a man of wealth and travel. I don't tend to go far, but when I do I can do so quickly. It is even possible for me to be there before you even wanted me to be, and if someone asks me to be somewhere twenty minutes ago, then I take it literally.

To put it shortly: I am a time-traveller and it helps me quite a bit in my line of work, mostly with the paperwork and being able to actually get things done in a small time-window. I loan myself out to small companies if they have a large contract they need finished in half the time, but I officially do a 9-to-5 in the Bayer's Palace.

Why, yes, I am talking about the capitol building. For a while I was the princess's sparring partner, before we got older and it got awkward. (She tends to make people around her want to do what she says, so she gets odd ideas around handsome young blond men who can travel in time, such as myself.) My mother is the spymaster, and she makes me do her paperwork on top of my own. Generally I don't have much paperwork, but when I do it's usually the sort of regular forms and orders. One of my people is a lawyer who draws them up according to the specifics of the mission we're doing.

We do whatever needs to be one. In a world where magic runs rampant and sometimes breaks through the ground and starts making kids psychotic, that means that there is a lot of things that need to be done, sometimes more than one at the same time. (Yes, my job again. All of my people own at least two cell phones with a big number painted on the front. The number tells us which time-line they're from, so people don't accidentally answer the one that they should be answering 24 hours from now.)

There are six people on my team. One of them is myself, Sir Charles Baker, call me Charlie and don't make a comment about Charlie's Angels, please.

Sheridan Blake is my second, and she is a female despite all her efforts to look like a very pretty boy. She went to school with my mother, but she admits that she's bollocks at making plans and that it's much easier when I just do what I think I need to do instead of asking permission, because sometimes it takes me quite some time to figure out why I should be doing it. (If anyone says "I have a ____ feeling about..." then it is a good idea to base opinions off what they're going to say next.)

Sherry can light herself on fire. All her clothes, and I do mean all of them, are specially made so that they don't light up with her. She tends to wear suits and ties.

I have a medic, even if she isn't technically my medic because she's attached to the palace. But I consider her one of my team because she's bright and witty and Sheridan's girl friend, so if I need to know if something is bothering Sheridan then I know exactly who to ask. She's also dying. She's been dying since she was twelve.

Lying on the bunk over there with his eyes shut is Dexter, and if you examine his white-knuckled grip closely you will notice he's holding a brick of technology with a transmitter in it. He's talking to computers. That's pretty much what he does in his spare time, talk to computers. Dude needs a girl-friend. I, personally, know jack s**t about computers but I trust his judgement and sometimes it's really nice to have a situational warrant around so I don't need to badger a judge about camera footage. He's also the local rumor mill. If I want to know something about the price of calico in Calpran, all I need to do is ask.

Then I need to shut him up before he starts not only telling me the price, but why it's so low all of a sudden, how the calico is made, and why its preferred over and under other types of cloth. Sometimes it can be difficult to do that diplomatically, which is why I have Andy.

Andrew Spinner messes with sound unconsciously. If he worries about making sounds, he doesn't. If he wants to be able to get people the hell out of the way, he can shout like a fog-horn. He is also one hell of a tactician and a planner. He can read blueprints. He can scale walls using a hook on the end of a rope.

Yes, he was a thief once. He impressed my mom, though. You need to keep an eye on people that impress mom.

The last is Sadie, the lawyer woman from hell I told you about. If she sits near Dexter, she can type at 100 words per minute. If she stands across from a conman, she suddenly can make herself do the most honest smile that's ever swindled you out of a hundred dollars. If she fights you, she knows everything you know plus things she's picked up. She does our paperwork sitting in a little cafe below the office of one the best lawyers in the city, who happens to be her fiance. When she finishes, she goes upstairs and he looks at it and makes her revise things because while she can get the lawyer voice and terminology down instinctually, she can't actually make up knowledge she has no way of getting.

I can't do that, either. I can't text my past self and tell him, "Don't go in there, dude with a knife." Well, I actually can, but only once I've made visual confirmation that there actually is a dude with a knife. If I don't make sure and just text myself in the past with the information that I have no way of picking up in the first place, then you get information decay and that's always nasty.

It's like putting something into a stable time loop. If you send a piece of paper to become itself in the past, then the paper will tear and get coffee spilt on it and by the time it's gone back ten times you have a temporal mess on your hands. Always write it on a different sheet of paper. Second thing I taught my team.

Oh, and. We fight crime. (And fairies. Vicious little buggers.)